


The Exile

by dr_trash_and_the_bags (dr_wie)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Baby Yoda is cute AF, Book reading, Domestic Bliss, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Maternal Instinct, Misunderstandings, child rearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:06:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27364747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_wie/pseuds/dr_trash_and_the_bags
Summary: You're a paediatrician with a bounty on your head. When a Mandalorian with a sick child captures you, you fall madly in love. And the Mandalorian isn't too bad either.
Relationships: Reader/The Mandalorian
Comments: 26
Kudos: 238





	1. Mother Trash

You had been in hiding for two weeks when someone finally came for you.

The hatch of your small underground bunker bursts open and a metal-clad figure descends. Oddly, you're not as terror stricken as you imagined you'd be. You feel strangely relieved. Since you found out about the bounty on your head, you had been in a constant state of stress, and the paranoia alone might have driven you insane, if the sleep depravation didn't first.

"You can come on warm or you can come in cold" the masked figure says.

 _A Mandalorian_. No wonder he found you. You feel a little star struck, seeing a Mandalorian for yourself in the last few days of your existence. For weeks you had grappled with this question -- should you be taken alive, at the risk of revealing what you know, or should you let the knowledge of little Ben's uncharted force-sensitivity die with you? But the same instinct that made you incapable of killing another person seemed to apply to yourself.

"Warm, thank you." You said.

The Mandalorian nodded and took you by the arm, leading you outside. Once again you are surprised by how relaxed you feel.

 _It is out of my hands now_ , you think.

The decision to abandon the Solos when you realised that your presence would put Ben in danger weighed heavily on you. And every other decision as a woman on the run after that. It feels oddly nice to relinquish control.

"So, you're a Mandalorian!" you declare with a large grin, when he doesn't respond you continue, "I figured they'd send a droid after me. I'm not a very consequential bounty... couldn't be much of a price on my head... And I'm not exactly a fighter. I mean, sending a Mandalorian to collect a human female with no military acumen is a bit overkill..." You muse, "So why would you take on such a cheap bounty? Are you avoiding the Inner Rim?"

A picture starts forming in your mind. Surely this Mandalorian would't waste their time going to such a backwater location to collect a young doctor on the run? He must be on the run himself... You peer up at the Mandalorian, large, silent, marching you along efficiently, until you reach what seems to be his ship.

"Godammit!" they mutter in that modulated voice, which you decide must be masculine.

Then you see what they were cussing about. Emerging from the ship is a small green figure.

"A baby Yoda!" You screech and slip out of the Mandalorian's grasp to run at the child.

He is lightening quick and appears next to you as you inspect the creature, but doesn't interfere.

"You know this species?" he asks.

"Not really" you say, holding your hand out to the little -- decidedly young -- creature.

It coohs at you and reaches for your hair. Children love you. You love them right back. It's the main reason why you became a paediatrician in the first place. And of course little Ben Solo. But you won't think about that now.

"But I know of another one that's the same species -- never met him though -- he died a while back. But he was definitely the same. Named Yoda" you look up at the stoic Mandalorian as you pick the child up into your arms and bounce it on your hip while tiny green hands fist your hair and pinch your nose. "Yoda was actually a famous Jedi! Is this little bundle force-sensitive?" You ask, smiling widely, your predicament and looming doom completely forgotten. You huff and mutter to the child "probably don't believe in force-sensitivity, does he?".

When there is still no answer you look up. The Mandalorian just keeps staring at you, unmoving. And then the penny drops.

"Oh", you say, dismayed, the smile slipping from your face. You look down at the child, "I've just killed myself, hadn't I?" A cold dread settles in your chest, "This is why you're taking such a low-risk, out of the way bounty. The child. And now I've seen it. And you probably know that I'm already being hunted for my relation to another force-sensitive child..."

The Mandalorian tilts his head slightly to the side.

 _Dammit, okay no, he didn't know that. He probably never asks_. He has no choice but to take you in cold now. You realise that you're holding the child in front of you and slowly put him down in case things get messy. He probably won't hurt the child to kill you, but it's not worth the risk. You scramble for time.

"Okay, I understand that you need to eliminate me because I know what you're hiding. But before you do, let me help. The child is sick, right? He's not eating? He's sleepy the whole time?" If this is your final exit, you may as well try to do some good.

"Yes" that modulated voice says. He is otherwise still as a statue, and you wonder again if a Mandalorian can be a droid.

"You need to return him to his home. He will keep getting sicker if you don't. Life-forms like these aren't like you and I. They age very slowly, they need special care. Please" you are trying to keep the desperation out of your voice. But he needs to understand how important it is to get the child home.

"He is a foundling. I don't know where his home is" the Mandalorian says. He is unreadable, but after a pause he asks "do you?"

"No..." You search your brain for all the information you know about Yoda. Old, very old. And large-eyed. Dark. You have a little to work with.

"But I can tell you a little about how he likely evolved, and what you can do to help him?" Abruptly the Mandalorian strides past you. He swoops up the child in his stride and heads up the ramp and into his ship.

"Come" He says. It is less demanding that you'd expect. And even though you know you're walking to your demise, you know there's no outrunning a Mandalorian.

* * *

"Okay so I know he's sick because his eyes have a red tinge around the edges. It's not normal. He's trying to compensate for blue-light exposure. Light-sickness. I've seen it before in species that evolved in near darkness" You feel good. Proactive. Useful. "What you can do is keep the lights dim, and adjust the wavelength of your ship lighting to something longer".

The Mandalorian stands in front of you and says nothing, so you proceed.

"I can help with that. My guess is he evolved on a planet near a black hole. It would explain the slow ageing. You'd expect him to age faster when he leaves such a system, right?" The Mandalorian says nothing. "But -- ha! weird physics thing -- creatures like that actually continue to age at the same rate. It's like their telomeres never get the message that they're no longer subject to extreme gravity" you're actually laughing now, in your element "it would explain the stature as well. And maybe why we don't know where he's from" the laughter dies in your throat as you realise that his home planet is probably gone.

"The other thing" you continue, composing yourself, "is his diet. I take it he tries to eat live animals?"

The Mandalorian says nothing for a moment, then hesitantly, "He does..."

"Okay, so he seems vitamin deficient, especially if you look at his nails. He is likely trying to eat meat to compensate for it, even though, by looking at his teeth, he should probably live off algae and water weeds. So he needs more than whatever rations you're feeding him. He's not human. You can't treat him like one" You realise that your voice is getting stern, but honestly there's nothing that grinds your gears like someone not taking proper care of a child, "Are _you_ human?"

The Mandalorian stands immobile, but he looks like a trapped animal, more than a merciless hunter.

"Well?" you demand.

"Yes" he eventually concedes. Interesting. You wonder how he remains so _still_ the whole time.

"Okay" you go on, "that helps. So you're taking care of his other functions? You know what to do when he poops"

"I... uhhh... yes, I think..." the Mandalorian stammers. Ha! If you weren't genuinely concerned about the child's wellbeing you'd feel some triumph over breaking down his stoic veneer.

"We need to go back to the bunker to get my kit. I have all my medical equipment in there. And some spores so that I can grow him something proper to eat."

"No." the Mandalorian says. He has finally gained control again, "that's out of the question".

* * *

Twenty minutes later you have your medical kit as you and the sulking bounty hunter march back from your bunker. You're already rummaging inside. It's the bare essentials, but it's enough to take care of a child. Inside the ship you remove a small device and take the child's hand to draw a drop of blood.

"Stop!" The Mandalorian shouts, reaching out to take the device from you. He freezes mid-air as you direct your most icy stare at him.

"Listen, Mr Man, I am a doctor. I am using my last living moments to try to take care of this neglected child. Back off."

"You're too young to be a doctor" he replies. You frown, surprised that you have to deal with this rubbish even in your last moments. _Okay_.

Ignoring him, you continue and draw the child's blood. After some readings and calculations you sterilise some water and whip up two make-shift bioreactors. In one you pour a carefully mixed consortium of fungal spores and the other some bacterial spores. You add some glucose broth and shake the reactors well.

"Right, this one will be ready in two days. It will fill with mycelium that the kid must eat. It has everything he needs for his deficiencies" You point at the one container. Then you point at the other, "I'm growing some Bacta in here. Just as a precaution because I know it's as rare as dianoga teeth here in the Outer Rim. When it's ready the reactor will turn blue, in about a day. In the meantime I need access to your ship's vital functions so that I can adjust the lighting"

"I can do that myself" the Mandalorian says petulantly. He gets up, presumably to do exactly that. In the meantime you scan the child's bodyweight and administer the universal vaccine. Then you give the child a small dose of vitamin syrup.

"That beast has been making you live off bone broth and rations, hasn't he" you cooh at him. He chortles and plays with your hair. The little bundle needs to rest after his vaccine, so you put him down in what appears to be an egg-shaped floating cot. But he is restless, reaching out for you, wailing unhappily. So you remove him from the cot and hold him against you. The kid's small hands grab softly at your neck and face and it hits you how little skin-on-skin contact the poor child probably gets with a Beskar-clad Mandalorian. He is, after-all, a baby mammal like any other. You look around the hull and pull out a slim bed from the wall with one hand, balancing the kid on your hip. Then you sit down on it and start to peel off your top until you sit in only your pants and breast band.

The moment that the kid feels your skin, he relaxes and quickly drifts off to sleep. You hold the warm little bundle tight. His smell reminds you a little of Ben's freshly-baked-cookie smell when he was little, although the kid definitely had something of a more dusty undertone. Pressing your cheek against the little fuzzy green head, you close your eyes. At some point you become aware that you must have fallen asleep -- after all, you hadn't really slept properly in over two weeks -- and that you're lying flat, with the kid snoring softly on top of you. The lights have also taken on a warm, softer glow and you allow yourself to drift back into a blissful, long overdue, dreamless sleep.

* * *

You wake with a start, clutching at your chest where the kid should be. Instead there is a hand around your neck.

You lie flat on your back, childless, nearly topless and look up at the Mandalorian staring down at you. His hand, on the base of your neck, is firm, but you can still breath. It makes sense that he'd decide to kill you this way. Shooting you would make a mess and wake the kid up. He stares at you for a long time. Long enough for your panic to subside and you eventually stop squirming under is eyeless gaze. Your arms fall to your sides and you wait. But he just keeps staring at you. Maintaining a constant light pressure on your throat. So you stare back at him with large eyes, waiting. Eventually you take a deep breath and his helmet turns an almost imperceptible fraction away from your face and towards your body.

 _Is he looking at my breasts...?_ You suddenly wonder. Before you can inspect that particular idea, he finally speaks.

"I can't decline your bounty. And even if I do, someone else will come after you. And I can't delay your capture indefinitely. I also can't turn you in alive..." This is the most you've ever have heard him say. 

His modulated voice is as devoid of expression as his helmet is, and yet... "I can kill you now" he starts again and pauses.

 _Or...?_ "Or you can spend your last days with purpose. Help get the kid healthy". You nod your head quickly. You'd like that. He knew you would. He makes a broken sound that you can't really place. The pressure around your throat subsides a little, and then, "but I will have to kill you. Soon."

* * *

"Is today the day?" You ask him, gliding into the cockpit, Kid on your hip, "Are you killing me today?" you drift to him, where he sits in the pilot seat.

He turns around slowly and you bend down so that the Kid can give his helmet a kiss. You do too, for good measure.

"Maybe not today" he says. He has been saying that every day for almost a year.

You flop into the copilot seat and smile at him. The two of you had fallen into a comfortable routine. You each get twelve hours in the cockpit and twelve hours in the hull. The person in the hull may not be disturbed, lest you accidentally walk in on him without a helmet. Or lest he walks in on you with your face pressed into the pillow on the cot you alternately share, smelling faint traces of him from where he slept the previous night, furiously rubbing out a quick orgasm while you imagine him upstairs in the cockpit.

Oh, yes, in other news, you are madly in love with the Mandalorian. Mando, these days.

Rationally you understand that you feel this way because of your proximity. Because you've never really spent this much time with and adult man. Because your hormones are all over the place and, again, proximity. But that doesn't change the fact that you spend far too much of your time thinking about all the ways you'd bed him if you could. If he was allowed to. If you knew how to. If he were interested. You also spend far too much time worrying about him.

When he doesn't return from a bounty for more than three days you worry. Five days and you need to fly the Razor Crest away, cash in on his life savings and make a small, quiet life with the Kid somewhere that nobody will ever find you. The contingency plans are there. But he always comes back, with bounty -- usually warm -- and mostly in one piece. At the beginning you'd spend your twelve hours in the hull in isolation with the kid. When the little monster is asleep you'd try to work in two hours of exercise -- pull-ups, pushups, lunges -- whatever you can muster in the small ship to stay strong and fit. Then you'd shower in the cramped fresher, take care of the reactors (by now there are numerous things brewing at any given time. Your little family unit always has Bacta, nutrients, and the occasional fermented drink for the adults), and then sleep in the shared cot. Breathing in his delicious musky, soapy, manly smell from the night before.

But the routines changed a little. While he still gives you your twelve hours of space, looking after the ship and the Kid so you can rest, he always finds excuses to keep you company in his own free time. And then he stopped making excuses all together and now he just sort of... hangs around. Taking care of the kid, and the ship while you read to him.

"Mando, you need to go to bed" you insist, rolling your eyes. You get up to take the Kid from him. The little monster reaches out to you, but Mando pulls him away.

"He's mine I found him!" the large killer Mandalorian whines petulantly as he holds the Kid out of arm's reach, "Read one more page"

You sigh dramatically and start reading aloud. He likes listening to you read. He likes listening to you explain things about biology, medicine, physics, things you've read, places you've heard of. And even though he doesn't offer much verbally himself, you appreciate the company. And, let's face it, you'd basically do anything to keep your crush happy.

" 'Trillion looked Arthur in the eyes, and moaned his name' " you read. You were delighted to find this particular piece of smutty trashy fiction amidst one of his bounty's loot. It is awful, dirty and you find it endlessly hilarious. Mando listens in stoic silence, as always, with the Kid on his lap

" ' "Take me now, Arthur Dent!" she declared and ripped open her bodice revealing her ample bosom' ", Mando's hands moved over the Kid's ears, and you can barely contain your laughter, as you continue, overly exaggerating the character's voices " ' "Now! Right now!" she hollered in ecstasy. He swiftly entered her waiting channel with his quivering rod' ", you were laughing so much now the tears were streaming down your face, " 'and she immediately shook with an orgasm that lasted over an hour' ".

Mando made a snorting sound.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" you ask him, still shaking with laughter.

"Nothing" he says. Not moving. Helmet blank. But you could feel a smile under there. His hands are still clasped over the Kid's ears (although you suspected the little monster could hear every word).

"No, no," you continue, "if you have an opinion, let's hear it. I won't have the peanut gallery mutterings disturbing this great piece of literature unless it's of cardinal importance. Out with it!"

He paused for a moment, then said "I'm just impressed that he managed to wring an hour long orgasm out of her". Such a long sentence! A Mando-record!

"Oh really? And pray tell, Mando, how long of an orgasm do _you_ normally wring out of a woman?" your eyes were still tearing with laughter.

"Well" he began, and suddenly you realise that he was actually answering the question, "maybe a couple in an hour, but I don't think one can last quite --" he falters awkwardly and stops. You stare at him, wide-eyed.

"Mando have you had sex?" you ask without thinking. Pause.

"Yes."

"Oh", you are SHOOK, "but you're a Mandalorian!"

You stare at him and he doesn't move. He rarely makes a sound unless you ask him something directly, "do you remove your helmet?"

"No."

"Your Beskar?"

"No." You sit for a few seconds imagining how that would work. Then you realise that he can literally see you thinking about him having sex, but you continue down this terrible and awesome wormhole of an inquisition.

"With whom though?"

He says nothing.

"With men or women? ...humans?"

"Human women" he answers stiffly.

"But I've never seen you with anyone... wait, is that where you go when you're away for a few days sometimes?" You feel your chest tightening, you feel your body slowly flood with cortisol and adrenaline.

_No no no no no --_

"No!" He answers quickly and loudly, his hands falling away from the Kid's ears,

"No, I haven't in a long time. Years. I would never leave you and the Kid to do such a thing" the modulator flattens his voice but you can hear the conviction in his words. The air is suddenly very tense.

 _He knows how I feel..._ you think, mortified, _he's taking pity on me..._

You can't stop yourself from the masochistic spiral you're trapping yourself in, "Well you mustn't let us stop you. You work so hard... and you're in so much danger all the time... if you need to let off steam... we'll be fine, we can wait here" if feels as though someone else, some self-destructive teenage girl is speaking these words.

He doesn't say anything. You will your mouth shut.

"Okay" he says eventually and you feel your heart break.

* * *

The Kid is doing so well. His eyes are focused on the metal ball suspended in the air in front of him, and you point to the right, the ball follows, you point to the left, the ball follows.

"Good job, buddy!" you exclaim and he squawks happily and embraces your legs, the ball dropping out of the air.

It's tricky encouraging his development when you're not really sure what stage he's supposed to be at. He has no concept of numbers yet. But he's strong in the force ( _stronger than Ben is_ _you think, and your chest aches with sudden longing for that broody little chimp), so you try to work coordination practices into his schedule.

You pick him up and plaster kisses all over his little face until he squeals with delight. You hear Mando open the hull and instinctively know that something is wrong. The bounty is dead, and he is limping.

"Mando! What can I do?" you ask, putting the Kid in his cot. Although he never stays put when Mando puts him down, he is remarkably disciplined when you give instructions.

You rush over to Mando and put your arm on his shoulder. There is blood, but you can't see where it's from. Then he passes out.

 _This is new._

Without thinking you roll over his dead weight and remove his cape. He is _HEAVY_. You realise with a shock that there is a small dent on the floor where his breastplate hit the ground as he passed out. You remove all his Beskar, except his helmet and start searching for the wound. It seems as though he was hit by shrapnel. His buttocks and right side seems to be the worst hit, but he's losing a lot of blood from somewhere.

_His shoulders?_

Then you spot it: Shrapnel in his neck, just under his helmet. He must have been looking down when he was hit from behind. He's still lying face down so you remove his helmet and grab one of your shirts to pull over his head. You adjust it so that you can see his neck -- bloody and messy -- but not his face. You grab a mixture of disinfectant Bacta and douse your hands and his whole torso in the stuff before grabbing a cauteriser. No arteries, good. Your hands work quickly, removing shrapnel and cauterising, removing and cauterising, removing and cauterising. When most of the bleeding is stopped, you look over to the Kid and wonder if you're crossing a line here.

"Hey, Kid. Come over here" the little bean jumps out of his cot and shuffles over, "Okay, so he's not bleeding out anymore, but do you think you can help things along a little? There are lots of veins that I couldn't close. And see here by his spine? I'm worried about that cut. What do you say?"

The little monster seems to understand immediately and reaches out with a small claw to Mando's neck. You can see the force slowly at work under the skin. You wonder whether the Kid would have been able to stunt the bleeding in time as well, but you didn't want to risk Mando bleeding out while trying to explain surgery to a toddler. Although... you clearly underestimated the little gremlin.

When the Kid starts wavering, his little eyes growing tired, you inspect the damage and it looks as though most of the wounds are healed. Some of the cauterised bits have even been started to heal. You pick the little bundle up and hug him.

"I am so proud of you, my little angel. I love you so much!" You exclaim, peppering his face with kisses as you return him to the cot.

Now for Mando. You've caught glimpses of him a few times while helping with serious wounds, and the bits of golden skin have been quite tantalising, but he's never allowed you to see more than a few crucial inches at a time. You go to where his face is on the floor, still covered in your shirt.

"Mando?" you ask. Then you repeat his name, your hand brushing the side of his covered face. He jerks awake and groans, then immediately covers his face with a free hand.

"Mando, your neck was injured. I had to remove your helmet. But your face is covered... I'm sorry?" You're not sure why you're apologising, "I'll keep your face covered, but I need to look at the rest of you. You are still covered in shrapnel and we need to extract it urgently".

He managed a small nod before passing out again.

* * *

_Well. Well, this is... quite something._

The Kid helped you lift him onto the cot (he is far too heavy), and you replaced his helmet, adjusting his head so that he neck isn't bent awkwardly, while you stripped off the rest of his clothes and placed him in a prone position. Only when all the shrapnel was removed from his body, the largest wounds cauterised, and you had started administering Bacta, did you emerge from doctor-mode and returned to your default state of being a horny piece of rubbish.

Your glove-covered hands were spread out on his upper thighs, cleaning blood off his skin when you really took in what you were seeing. His whole body was wrapped in hard chords of muscle. His incredible, perfect ass gleamed pertly with Bacta. And you absolutely saw his cock earlier when you were undressing him. Identifying your perverse thoughts for what they were, your hands flew off him as if his thick thighs burnt you.

"Oh stars" you muttered, as you moved backwards, looking up at the roof of the hull. Not wanting to cross any ethical lines now that your brain was back in the gutter.

You grab a blanket and throw it over him, and then start to turn him over so that he wakes in a supine position, not with his ass ( _that ass though!!_ ) in the air. Just as you start to lift him his hand whips out and grabs your wrist.

 _He's awake??_ "Mando?" you whisper.

He doesn't reply. It may have been a reflex. You try to push him over again and his grip tightens. He doesn't want you to turn him over. An amazing, uncorroborated thought enters your wormy little brain: He is trying to hide an erection. So you leave him and his splendid, ripped body and retreat to the cockpit to set coordinates to get out of dodge.

* * *

You keep trying to picture his cock as the hyperspace lights rush by. You hadn't really looked though. He was just a broken body and the only thing you were fixated on was where blood was coming from. But now... Now all you can think of is that expanse of golden skin, and the black hair below his navel --

"Hi" Mando says and you literally fall out of the pilot's seat in shock. You scramble back into the seat while he stands, in full armour, unmoving.

"Mando! Hi, sorry!" You're not sure what you're apologising for, but in the off chance that he can read your pervy mind, it's best to just be sorry about everything. He keeps staring at you as though he can in fact see your creep thoughts.

"Did you see..." he starts.

"Oh! Well, I saw it, yes, but I didn't actively _look_ , I mean, it's nothing I haven't seen before!" you bark out an awkward laugh and keep rambling, "I am a doctor, after all, but obviously, they were mostly kids. So yes, this is a bit different. But it's not as though I didn't know you had one. You're a male human. Honestly I was just so focused on keeping you alive I didn't look properly. And I _DEFINITELY_ didn't touch it". You absolutely didn't that was the truth.

"You saw my face" Mando whispered. You could barely hear him speak through the modulator.

"What? Oh, no I didn't see your face at all, I kept it covered completely the whole time. Ha. No way. We don't mess around with cultural norms."

Your brain finally catches up with the conversation and you blush so hard that you could probably build a fusion reactor from your face. You look him dead in the eye and stare daggers at him. Challenging him to even TRY say "Wait, what were _you_ talking about" He, mercifully, doesn't ask.

"Thank you" is all he says and then he climbs back down into the hull.

* * *

Things continue as normal after _that_ episode. At least they do for Mando. For you, no so much.

You could live with being in love with your mysterious, courteous, dangerous, capable, and often hilariously funny companion. Nobody could blame your poor maternal heart for melting when you watched him with the Kid (who, you decided, is _actually_ the love of your life and you would _DIE_ for the little monster in a heartbeat). But this new knowledge was making a demon out of you.

Knowing that he was hiding layers and layers of lean muscle under that armour was driving you insane. Those broad shoulders, small waist, strong thighs and of course... sigh... that rock-hard, incredibly round ass--

The door to the Razor Crest opened and your hand flew out of your pants with lightening speed. Your fingers were wet with slick so you darted into the fresher just as you heard the Kid wake up from his nap. When you walked out Mando had already put the bounty in carbonite and regarded you carefully. You knew your face was flushed and you were panting a little.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yes! I was just... exercising" I shouldn't even try to lie. You both know how awful you are at it.

He looked at you silently for another while until you left to collect the Kid for feeding. Holding him on a hip you inspected one of your latests brews. It was a deep berry mauve and carbon-dioxide bubbled enticingly off it. Mando appeared silently behind you and you felt your breath hitch as your body temperature shot through the roof. His helmet was right next to your face, peering at the brew.

"I loved the last one" he said.

"Oh you _loved_ it, did you?" You asked breezily, "Light of your life? Star in your heavens? Well then I don't know how you're going to describe _this_ one because it's much better", it really was. Top grade berries and an ancient yeast from an old monastery that you asked Mando to scavenge for you.

You smiled at him and asked, "Hey, was the hunt okay? The guy you brought in was awfully quiet"

"It was good" he said.

The Kid reaches up and gives Mando a peck on his helmet, leaving a small wet mark on the shiny veneer. Your grin broadens and you give him one on the other side of his helmet. He stands there, unmoving, but you know he loves it.

He looks back at the brew and muses, uncharacteristically, "I wish we could enjoy it together...". You know it's been decades since he last ate or drank in the presence of another person. But you have an idea.

* * *

"Mando! You can come up now!" You shout.

It's the beginning of his turn to take care of the ship and Kid, but you've already set the one to bed and the other on a course. You're in the cockpit, sitting in the pilot seat, with a tray in between the chairs. On it is fungi, rations, and fresh fruit. There's also a large vat of your berry brew and two glasses.

You hear him come up and you say "Come, share a meal with me".

You hear him pause and take the scene in. The meal, the drink, the fact that you are completely blindfolded.

"But you have to take off _all_ your armour".

Long moments pass before there is a rustle. His cloak. Heavy metal on the ground. His Beskar, being stripped off. And then you hear him take a seat in front of you. You smell him too. The fresh, soapy, musky smell that you find on the bedding before you wash the linens... Which you'd normally roll around in it while you furiously rub your clit raw.

"This is incredible" he says, but it's somehow not him. The voice is much smoother, much warmer, lower, and yet clearer. The hairs on your arms stand up.

"Mando... your voice" He huffs a laugh and you can feel how awkward he is. How utterly exposed he feels.

You reach around for your mug, and then feel his hand on your right hand, guiding you to your mug. His bare skin shoots electric currents through yours. He wraps your hand around the mug and then keeps his own wrapped around yours. When he finally lets go you bring the mug to your mouth for a sip. It really is delicious.

You consider abandoning your child and captor to start a brewery. You hear him swallow.

"Exquisite. Absolutely beautiful" he says "Definitely my favourite" is that a bit of an accent? A slight outer rim accent? You smile broadly.

The conversation is GREAT. Without his helmet, Mando is almost talkative, although he asks most of the questions. You both avoid talking about life before. You know it's because he doesn't want to think about why you're here. He knows that you took care of a young boy, whose medichlorians almost matched his grandfather's, and now there are evil forces trying to control him. Those evil forces that want to wring you for information, confirmation of the boy's force-sensitivity, because it's far easier putting to put a bounty on a nobody paediatrician than it is to place one on the legendary Leia Organa or her son. But you don't talk about that.

You talk about the good things. The small things that make you happy. His mother read to him when he was a child, and it's a craving he didn't know he had until you showed up.

"There are lots of cravings I didn't know I had until you showed up" he said softly.

Your heart is beating so loudly you feel as though it is shaking your whole body. The idea that he might feel the same way is leaving you breathless. You can accept the fact that he will never love a bounty back, but if he could just lend you his body for one night... You just want to feel what it feels like before you die...

"What?" he says.

Did you say that last bit out loud? Your brain is very hazy. Okay, real talk. You're fully drunk.

"What?" You ask innocently, blindly getting up out of your chair, suddenly too wired to sit still.

"Why do you think you're going to die?!" he asks, you hear anger bubbling in his voice.

When you don't respond there's a moment of quiet. Perhaps he forgot why your'e there in the first place.

His voice is softer when he says, "what do you want to feel...?" You feel the blush creep up your face and wish desperately that you could read his face.

"I want to feel _you_ ". You reach out and your finger tips touch his cheek. His breath hitches.

"You want to feel me what?" he whispers.

You're a bit baffled by his coyness and stand in silence, your hand dropping from his face. Then you hear him move and his voice is thick when it appears right by your left ear.

"You want to feel me _here_?" He asks, and suddenly his right hand is on your left breast, squeezing, adjusting to pinch your hardening nipple lightly.

You gasp and you're aware of the heat of his body behind you, a large chest behind your head, hard thighs behind your ass. Those broad shoulders curving around you. His left hand reaches for the base of your neck and squeezes softly.

"You know sometimes, when you're napping with the Kid, or feeding him, or reading to me, or so very excited about one of your astonishing experiments downstairs, I forget..." he whispers softly in your ear.

You're not sure where this is going but your'e breathing hard and fast, your body burning up. Your underwear a hot, wet mess. His voice takes on a more sinister tone, as his right hand leaves your breast and slowly makes its way down your sternum over the thin layer of clothes.

"... I forget why you're here. I forget that you're my bounty and that I'm nothing more to you than a _warden_." He spits the last word out like its poisonous.

You try to shake your head, but your breathing is laboured, your whole body trembling in anticipation as his hand slides over your belly the most decadent decent.

"You use your clever little brain to wrap me around your finger. Manipulate me", his hand is at the edge of your pants, "and now _this_ " he grabs your groin over your pants and your knees give in, but he holds you up by your neck, by your pussy, "now you offer me your delicious little body, is that right?"

He adjusts his left arm so that he's holding your weight up around your chest, pressed tightly to his. With his left hand still on your neck, his right hand moves to slide into your pants, "why the sudden desperation? That you'd stoop so low as to offer yourself to your captor? To someone you hate? Are you afraid your time is running out?" Where is this coming from?

He's talking more right now than he had in the last year. You're a bit frightened, and disoriented, still in the dark. And his voice, suddenly so alien, so human, whispering untruths into your ear as he starts parting your slippery folds.

"That's it, isn't it? You're so afraid for your life that you're willing to swallow your disgust and give me what I've been craving", a thick finger slips into you and you moan shamelessly.

A second finger works its way into you. It's too tight. Too much. Certainly much more than your own feeble ministration in the past. His drenched fingers slide out of you and move up to your clit, rubbing tight circles.

"I don't blame you. But I am disappointed. You have no idea. If you knew what I've done for you... what I've given up for you..." his voice is so strained that you can barely hear him.

His grip on your neck is a bit too tight, and you can't really focus on the rubbish he's prattling on about right now, all you can feel is electrifying pleasure cursing through your core as his fingers increase their pace, and then your orgasm crashes over you, your pussy clenching down on nothing, your clitoris contracting in violent spasms under his fingers.

You hear him mutter something like, "if you knew you'd hate me even more..." before he lifts you up and places you back in the pilot's seat.

The orgasm certainly didn't last an hour, but it was by far the best one you've ever had. You wonder idly whether it's always this good if someone else is involved. In a dreamy daze you reach out to him, roughly where you imagine his groin should be, but his hand catches tour wrist.

"No." is all he says.

Ah. One-Sylable-Mando is back in town. Your feel something warm draped over you -- his cape? -- and you fall into a drunken, blissed out slumber.


	2. Father Trash

Din's heart had finally stopped hammering. Somewhat. Although he was sure she was properly passed out, he had locked himself in the fresher, his back plastered against the door. He'd fled the cockpit without even grabbing his Beskar. Like a frightened child. She terrified him sometimes, but he wasn't scared now, he was ashamed. He was caught off guard and handled that very poorly. In fact he'd been handling things poorly for some time. 

He should have told her months ago that there was no bounty on her head anymore, but he he didn't want to upset her with his methods -- she certainly wouldn't approve. So he had put off telling her because he needed to be _sure_ it was safe for her, because he needed to tell her at the right time so she wouldn't ask for details, because the Kid was a bit under the weather, because she was so _excited_ about visiting Hoth, and a million other fresh reasons. But that wasn't the real problem, was it?

 _She would leave us_.

There it is. The crux of the matter. He was keeping her here under false pretences and until tonight he had convinced himself that she wanted to be with them and maybe even enjoyed their little adventures. Sometimes her overly friendly ways made his heart ache for a life where they really were a little family. His child and his -- Din swallowed hard -- his wife.

He looked at his hands, scrubbed clean, and thought about the dinner, trying to pinpoint where he started messing up.

It was the best dinner of his life. It was probably the best day of his life come to think of it. He's spent the day with the Kid and then he got to share a meal with another person for the first time in his adult life. And not just any person.

 _Her_.

Without his Beskar he allowed himself to dream a little... imagining a world where this was perhaps a date. A world where he was someone else, maybe even someone she could like. Maybe even kiss.

His little fantasy shattered abruptly when she mentioned dying. How could she still think he could ever hurt her? After everything he had done to protect her... The illusion he had built of their relationship crumbled around him in that moment during dinner as he realised that she still sees him as some monster who is only keeping her alive until her use runs out. Had he given her any indication that she wasn't needed? That she and the Kid weren't more important to him than his own life, than anything? What changed?

When he realised that she was offering herself to him in some desperate last attempt to stay alive he pretty much lost his mind. Instead of just telling her it wasn't necessary, he saw red and became cruel. But also greedy. He so desperately wanted to prove to her that the idea might not be that repulsive, that if he could wring an orgasm out of her she'd miraculously decide to stay. But he couldn't stop himself from voicing his disappointment. His heartbreak. And the whole scene played out so different from what he sometimes allowed himself to imagine late at night before he drifted off to sleep. He felt even more like a monster than before.

_Stop wallowing in sorrow and do the right thing. As she would say, 'put your big boy pants on'._

He scraped his resolve off the floor, opened the fresher door, and silently slipped into the cockpit while she snored adorably. He took a moment to look at her face by the glow of the console, and whispered almost silently, "I'm sorry for keeping you prisoner. I'm sorry for everything...".

The lump in his throat make it hard for him to breath.

_Do the right thing._

Din quickly put his armour on and set about loading a substantial amount of credits onto a chip for her, then setting coordinates for her drop off.

 _She'll be fine. She'll be free,_ he told himself.

* * *

He heard her stir a while later but felt too ashamed to look up. Suddenly she fell into his lap, with her arms around his neck.

"Hey, you...", she whispered dreamily with sparkling eyes and a smile so enormous it made his heart break all over again.

She played the role well. He'd give anything for it to be real. But the only thing he had to give her was her freedom. So he peeled her arms off him.

"There is no longer a bounty on your head--"

"What?!"

"I should have told you sooner and I apologise. I'm dropping you off in the Hosnian system in an hour, it's in the core. You'll be fine there. Then the Kid and I will go permanently off the grid. Take whatever you want to take from the Crest but be packed in 45 minutes."

"Wait, Mando, why--"

"Be packed in 45 minutes" he repeated.

She tried to search his eyes but he knew all she could see was her own reflection. She sat there for a long time and eventually slipped away. Just as well. He wasn't able to hold in his sobbing much longer anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, the two idiots TALK (etc etc etc etc.....)


	3. Family Trash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: There's a threat of non-con, but nothing bad actually happens.

You packed only what you’d arrived with over a year ago. Plus one of the Kid’s blankets. Mando can kick you out if he wants but you’re taking a little reminder. Still in shock, you took the chip he handed you and could barely hear his instructions. Something about starting a new life, some details about the circumstances around the bounty on your head. You really should pay attention but there’s a thin layer of numbness over a barely contained insurmountable wave of grief that you’re just just keeping under control.

You step off the Ray in your fugue state and realise you’ll never feel his masked frown when you refer to the Razor Crest as “the Ray” again. Suddenly there are a million other Nevers, and all of them culminate in the biggest heartache: you’ll never see the Kid again. So the tears start and you sit down on the sidewalk and miss seeing the Ray fly away, and wonder whether the Kid will ever understand that it wasn’t you who chose to leave him.

Hours later you’ve more or less composed yourself. You should have refused. You should have put up more of a fight. You should have simply stolen the Kid. You shouldn’t have let your silly infatuation make you so damn _compliant_. Anger is replacing hurt very quickly now.

“Asshole.” You mutter.

It's getting dark and you needed a plan. Hotel? Maybe. Could you use your real name? You look down at the chip Mando gave you and frown, wondering why he possibly thought giving you credits would somehow make things okay. There's a public info booth which is as good a place to start a new awful life as any. As you look at the directory you realise that you have something better than a hotel: you have someone you could trust right here in the city.

* * *

You ring the bell of the grotesquely luxurious apartment and are immeasurably relieved when Riaan opens the door.

“Oh thank goodness you still live here!” You exclaim. He stares at you, wide-eyed for a moment before embracing you.

“I thought you were dead! Everyone did! The Solos... where have you BEEN?”

“It’s a long story, Ri. And I’m famished”.

Riaan was one of the few people you really trusted. You both studied medicine, although he was older, and despite always being a bit of a flirty pest, the nature of that trust was anything but playful: he has an even bigger secret than yours. He was close to the Solos and in your time with Ben you learned that he was under special protection after the war. He had a whole other identity.

Riaan himself was a brilliant physician, a kind man, a good man, often an annoying man — the type of guy that would eventually wear you down with his incessant wooing. But a dark secret about his linage always loomed over him: his father was Sheev Palpatine.

So you give him a vague account of your time with your captor, not mentioning the Kid. Before you were done talking Riaan grabs you by the shoulders.

“Hang on. Was there a force-sensitive life form with him?”

You eye him suspiciously.

“I need to know. There’s been a lot of chatter on the dark band about a Mandalorian that’s harbouring a force-sensitive child. They’re trying to harvest his blood... like they wanted to do to me before Leia stepped in...”

You’re still eying him. Riaan wasn’t particularly force-sensitive. But given his lineage... anyway it still doesn’t mean you can trust him. So you say nothing.

“Listen, a man named Moff Gideon has set a trap for him. I don’t know where, but if you can contact him, or know where he’s going...”

You get up and whisper “I need to leave”.

Riaan stands up too, “No, please don’t disappear again. If you know something, tell me. I know who to contact. You can stay right here, they’ll sort it out... You can’t leave again...”

Ugh. He could be such a pest.

“I’m sorry. But I need to sort this out myself. No offence", Cringe, “I promise I’ll come right back when I’m done”.

He looks at you with those sad puppy eyes he’s always making when you leave and you have to physically stop yourself from rolling your own. You turn around and flee.

* * *

Okay, so you have no way of contacting Mando to tell him about the trap. But you knew where he was going before the catastrophic ditch-your-woman detour happened. Nul Hatta. Everything about the bounty felt suspicious to you when Mando received the fob. It was so... on the nose...

Back at the docks where Mando tossed you out like like yesterday's news, you run up to the orchestrator.

“I need to get to Nul Hutta immediately and I have money”

* * *

You wake with a start when the ship lands. You fell asleep against a cargo crate — no doubt filled with all sorts of contraband — and everything hurts. Still not as much as your poor broken heart, you think sulkily.

It doesn’t take long to see where the commotion is. A Hutt compound. How to get in? You look down at your medical case and think of the mad scientist Mando described from his first encounter with the child.

_It’s worth a shot,_ You think.

You walk straight past the guards to the compound entrance. Bits of conversation make you think they’re awaiting some important party. Moff Gideon, no doubt.

“I came ahead.” You sneer at the gate-keeper. He looks at you with a pair of small dead eyes.

“Doctor Pershing.” You do your best to look annoyed and open your medical case displaying your Physician’s Crest. The gate-keeper frowns and comms someone.

“Are we expecting a doctor with them? Name? I don’t think this is a man but it’s hard to say, all humans look the same. No glasses though. I don’t know. Yeah, probably. Okay. Send Ruff to escort them.”

Moments later two guards appear and lead you deeper into the compound. Then you see him. And your heart nearly bursts with joy. The Kid is clearly sedated, and it’s probably best to keep him that way.

“Ghastly little thing, isn’t it?” You pretend to peer at him with disgust, “Well we’ll sort it out soon enough. I’d better get the antidote to the other prisoner before the whole compound looks like this”

“No. You take that thing, but the Mandalorian and his Beskar belongs to the Hutts” the more senior guard says.

“No doubt. But part of the deal is to keep this disease from spreading otherwise you’ll all be small and green and large-eared by morning”. You stare at the guard. Trying to look bored. Trying to look irritated. Desperately hoping your outlandish lies are believed.

The guards look at the Kid nervously and finally nods for you to follow them. They don’t question it when you wheel the cot along and you’re barely believing your luck. Looks like a doctor’s authority can be just as powerful as Jedi mind tricks...

Down the hall Mando is frozen in carbonite.

_Well well well_. How the tables have turned.

The system is a bit different from that on the Ray, and you’re worried about screwing it up. “Quick quick. I need to administer the antidote so that we can be done with this nonsense and everything is ready when Moff Gideon arrives.” Nobody moves, “NOW!” You snap.

One guard darts to the console and starts the unfreezing protocol. The other guard seems a bit more skeptical and as soon as he comms someone you know your luck has run out.

“Stop!” Someone shouts from behind you. The Kid’s cot is grabbed out of reach and you feel a sharp whack to the head. As you lose consciousness the last thing you see is Mando’s limp body falling from his carbonite prison.

* * *

You’ve been a prisoner for two days and nothing exciting has happened so far. Judging by the commotion, then lack thereof, it sounds as though Mando and the Kid escaped. Morosely you wonder whether they even know it was you who helped them. Does it even matter? Not really. As long as they’re safe. So what comes next? Interrogation? Torture? Slavery? Death? A guard finally walks up to your cell.

* * *

You stare at your warped reflection in the heavy bronze cuff around your wrist. You had put up a good fight when they hosed you down, but by the time you got dolled up and put in this obscene outfit of cuffs and collars and flowing robes that hide nothing, the fight turned to resignation. 

_Don’t die fighting someone who is just as much a slave as you are now. Save your energy for a worthy fight._

You think about the legendary story of Leia in a similar situation, in a similar getup. The way Han told it she was so brave, so feisty, and so so _so_ sexy. There was nothing sexy about this now. You were chained by a collar to an enormous bed in a lavish room, awaiting whatever terrible trauma would be inflicted upon you when the Hutt whose room this was arrived.

_As long as the Kid’s safe, all this is worth it. I just need to survive long enough to eventually recover._

You hear something outside the door and close your eyes. You _will_ survive this. You know that. But you don’t need to bear witness to it.

The moment that you feel a touch at your shoulder though, you go full feral. You scratch and claw and kick blindly before being quickly overpowered, pinned to the plush mattress with a hand over your mouth. You know this hand. Your eyes shoot open.

_Mando!!_ He gestures to you to stay silent and gets up, quickly snipping the chain holding you to the bed and helping you up. You start to tremble.

_Keep it together!_ But the adrenaline crash has already started and as Mando silently leads you out through a laundry chute inside the fresher, your legs are trembling so badly you can barely get up from the giant pile of linen you landed on.

Mando effortlessly picks you up, an arm behind your back and one under your knees, and starts running. Your cheek rests against the cold Beskar at his chest and you’re vaguely aware that you’re crying. And also... flying?

You’re not sure how long you had been flying before feeling Mando touches down. Then he starts to run. And run and run. When he eventually stops you're next to a rock outcrop in the desert sand.

He puts you down and then seems to change his mind and embraces you again. So tight you can barely breathe. You hold him right back, and now the tears are really flowing.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry...”

“Where’s-“

“He’s safe. At the Ray with an old friend.” You smile against his breastplate at the name he's calling the ship. You knew you’d rub off eventually.

_If I ever have a kid of my own I’m calling them Rey._ The thought comes out of nowhere and makes you shudder.

“Unfortunately we’re still a long way from there. I have a camp set up here. I couldn’t get closer without risking discovery...” he pulls back and looks at you, holding your shoulders, “Listen... I didn’t know you were there. I would never have left you-“ the modulator crackles, too overcome to speak.

“Mando, no I’m fine! Nobody hurt me. In fact, I haven’t been this thoroughly scrubbed clean in months. That rusty old 'fresher of yours has nothing on a good water-hose...” you smile. Mando’s right hand moves up from your shoulder to your cheek. His thumb wipes at a tear,

“Oh! Ha! I’m not crying because they hurt me! I’m crying because I’m just so damn happy to see you. And maybe a little because _you_ hurt me. You threw me away...” Ugh. These tears! Just stop. Of course that just encouraged the torrent.

“I’m sorry. I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought you’d be delighted to leave... but I never asked.”

“Mando I’m just happy you’re here now...” The wind is rising and sand particles are biting at your legs, arms and stomach. The horrible outfit barely covers anything.

“We need to take shelter. The storm will help throw them off our trail." He moves to a rock that turns out to be a tarp covering a speeder and pack. Mando pulls a bundle from the pack and throws it to his left. The bundle pops open into a dome and he opens the front flap beckoning. You step inside.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, entering the small space behind you.

“No, thank you, I honestly just want to get out of this metal crap."

With some difficulty he unfastens the collar, cuffs, and assortment of embellishments. As the rigid structures are released the drapery falls free and your skin is covered in angry welts where the metal dug into you. Mando gives you his cape to cover yourself with and you lie back into the tent-covered soft sand and pass out.

When you wake up it is deathly cold. The ground is icy and the sand storm rages outside. You can see the feint outline of sand halfway up the side of the tent and the fear of being buried alive suddenly gnaws at you.

“Hey, hey...” that modulated voice next to you startles you a bit. He's somehow sensing your trepidation. You’d never woken up in such close proximity to another adult. He sees that you’re shivering and awkwardly attempts to pull you closer, but the Beskar is even colder than the ground.

“What can I do...?” He asks.

“Make me some hot chocolate”

“Um, unfortunately I can’t really... I don’t have—” he sounds deeply apologetic.

“Okay then bring me some wine” He huffs. Finally realising that you’re joking.

“Okay fine, FINE! Just remove your damn Beskar then” you’re still shivering, smiling at your own lame-ass sass when you hear him rustle next to you. You peer over and see his silhouette actually complying, “Mando you don’t have to I was just being...” but he continues and you let him.

When he’s done, he pulls you tightly against him. The warmth is immediate and glorious. You feel his breath by your ear and realise that his helmet is off too.

“I never thanked you... for saving us. How did you know? How did you even get here...?” His _voice_!!!

“Oh, my old boyfriend told me.” Mando stilled. Maybe you felt like torturing him a bit. He sure deserved it, “yup, went straight to him and instead of a fiery reunion, I heard that you got your sorry ass in trouble again and I just _HAD_ to come bail you out. No stress. All in a day’s work. The babysitting never ends you know—“

You're rudely interrupted by the press of his lips against yours. Rude! You felt his apology forming so before he could dare pull away you grab him tightly and deepen the kiss, tilting your head to the side. His lips are firm, and his demeanour a bit stiff. He’s breathing heavily through his nose, and though you can’t see his face, you can sense his concentrated frown, eyes screwed shut.

_Is this his first kiss?_ It very well might be given the mask... So you take the initiative and press your tongue against the seam of his lips.

They’re firm and it takes a moment before he gets the idea, parting them, relaxing them, letting you in. His breathing has stopped completely. Your tongue is halfway into his mouth before his tentatively meets yours, and as they slide over each other you feel him gasp into your mouth and then some dam bursts inside him and he’s on top of you like drowning man.

In a flash Mando has caged you in, his broad shoulders _everywhere_ as his tongue plunges into your mouth, licking, tasting, exploring. His mouth is so wet and hot and lovely you moan which seems to send him into an even deeper frenzy. It’s exquisite. Between licks and nibbles his breath is heavy on your cheek and in your mouth. It’s too much and not nearly enough.

Your arms are pinned under his cloak, under his weight, but you worm them out so you can do some exploring of your own. Your hands snake up his shoulders and into his thick hair and suddenly he stops. He just freezes. You do too. But then you hear his hitched breath and continue roaming through his hair. Lightly scratching his scalp, gently tugging and weaving and he _moans_ which just does all _SORTS_ of things to you.

Sure, tonight may be a first for you, but anything involving Mando’s head will certainly be a first for him too, so you grin wickedly and move from his mouth to lick his ear. He moans your name and shudders, pressing what definitely feels like an erection against your thigh.

“Let me fuck you... please. Stars I’m obsessed with you...”

“Yes!” _FINALLY_!!

“Yes? ...You’re okay after...?”

“ _YES_! Oh my word Mando are you really going to make me beg? Please!” He chuckles darkly and you feel the tips of his fingers trace your face, his nose just just brushing against yours.

“Well, I can’t say I’d mind hearing you beg...”

He’s gotten control of himself again and this time his kisses are deep and unhurried. His magical hands, the only part of him that ever betrays any emotion behind his Beskar veneer, peels away his cape to reveal your breasts to the tent air that is rapidly becoming humid with your combined panting while the storm rages outside.

He traces the outline of your left breast, then your areole with a featherlight touch, and just before you start squirming for more he plucks your nipple sharply, swallowing your gasp and grinning against your lips. His ministrations are soothing now, rolling your nipple between his fingers, before moving to your right breast to carry on working you into a trembling frenzy, all the while languidly licking, exploring your mouth, catching your lips between teeth. It’s as though he’s waited his whole life for a kiss and he’s certainly going to take his time.

Your thighs are rubbing against each other and you realise that _everything_ down there is a hot wet mess at this stage. As if he can read your mind, the tips of his fingers lightly roam down your sternum, over your stomach and finally — _FINALLY_ — reaches the small patch of hair.

He parts your drenched labia, brushing your clit on his way down, before slipping a thick middle finger into you and immediately finding that spot that took you years to discover yourself. You’re trembling pretty hard right now and can feel the smugness — wait, no, not smugness...

_Joy!_

The sheer joy radiating off him. As he starts to pump his finger slowly in and out of you, he gathers enough slick to thoroughly coat his thumb and then moves it to your clit, rubbing firm circles. Perfectly.

You feel a pang of annoyance at his obvious expertise. He seems to somehow have more experience with this than you do — and you’re a horny little grub with many hours of masturbation under your belt. But the cascade of hormones makes it difficult to focus on anything other than his large dexterous hands, let alone Mando’s past lovers.

Then he lowers his head towards your breasts and hesitates.

_Ahhh. There it is._

The part of Mando only you ever see. True to brand, Mando’s mouth is as shy as his hands are bold. When he latches onto your right nipple you feel his uncertainty disappear with a deep moan. You realise that you’d been clawing into his arms so hard the skin might be broken, so you release your grip and dip your hands into his hair again, gently massaging his scalp as his tongue rolls over your nipple.

This seems to short-circuit his brain and his hands go completely still. So you rock your pelvis gently to break his reverie and he starts his delicious ministrations again. He licks the underside of your breast, then kisses his way to the other one and latches on as his hands increase their tempo. You’re vaguely aware of a woman moaning obscenity, and can’t really consolidate the idea that it might be you.

The orgasm is blinding.

Your entire torso is contracted off the ground by the sheer intensity of it, and you’re clamping down on his single finger almost painfully hard. At some point it ends, and he’s kissing your face. You’re boneless for a moment but recover quickly when he retracts out of your space.

“Hey! Wait-“

You hear him chuckle in the dark, then realise he’s undressing. The domed tent is high enough for him to kneel comfortably, but probably not stand. When you reach out you indeed feel knees on the ground, rock hard quadrilaterals, your hands move up and to the back of his legs, up his gluteus maximus, as hard and round as you remember from that day he returned to you injured. Your hands move decadently over him, exploring his firm, lean body as you reach up.

_How much does all that Beskar weigh?_ You wonder, somewhat astonished by his strength.

It shouldn’t surprise you — you’ve seen him fight — and yet it does. His hands cup your face and he’s kissing you again as though he’s ravenous. There’s one part of him you’ve been purposely neglecting though... But you swallow your nerves and move your exploration southward over his stomach.

It’s both smoother and harder than you imagined, the skin silky soft over a hot and solid mass. And much, much larger than you expected. Your fingers wrap around the base without quite touching.

“I can’t wait to feel you come all over my cock...” he mutters into the kiss.

Your whole body both shudders and glows at his words. As though it can’t decide whether it’s freezing or burning. Or some ecstatic combination of the two. Your hands move to the tip and you find it surprisingly moist.

_Precome!_ Your brain provides from somewhere dark and dirty.

On an impulse you break the kiss to bend down and lick the tip. Musky, salty. You decide you like it. Mando is groaning above you and it’s now _his_ hands in your hair.

Then he exclaims, “Yes!” Before mercilessly flipping you back onto your back and kneeling between your legs.

He’s muttering “Stars, yessss...” as though he just got the best idea in the universe.

When he gives your pussy a long lick you decide that this is _indeed_ the best idea in the universe.

“This... this is incredible. You taste incredible...” he’s basically just rubbing his whole face into you, licking, sucking, nibbling, breathing deeply into your pubic hair. There’s a bit of stubble on his cheeks and it’s maybe a bit too much, ticklish, rubbing you a bit raw, but he soon figures out a strategy and after some misfires manages to get his tongue and lips on your clit and it’s as though you just jumped into hyperspace.

He’s about to add his fingers into the mix when another orgasm surges through you and your thighs clamp down on his ears so tight you’d not be surprised if his poor scull cracks open. When the orgasm abates, he’s still lapping up all your slick and you gently push his head away, far too overstimulated.

“I want to do that again — when you’re ready. Feel you come all over my face...” For once he’s the talkative one. You want to be sassy. You want to crack a joke. But what you need is for him to be inside you and that’s pretty much overwriting all other functions right now. He seems to have the same idea though.

Mando pushed your knees back against your chest, and pulls your pelvis up towards him. He’s on his knees again, spreading your legs open, his hands drift over your vulva, rubbing, getting everything wet. Probably his cock as well.

Then you feel the head of his erection at your entrance. It goes in a bit then stops. He jerks his hips forwards and you feel a brief sharp pain, but he’s barely in.

“Stars, you’re tight...” when he pushes deeper a small whimper escapes you before you can clamp a hand over your own mouth. He retreats immediately.

“Hey, hey...” he’s by your side, hands searching for your face, “I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You’re nodding but he says, “it’s okay let’s just lie down for a little, get some rest. No pressure...” you finally manage to speak again.

“No, Mando, I _REALLY_ want to! You have no idea how badly I want this...” you hesitate, you can feel how his eyes are searching yours in the dark. Both of you looking blindly for signs from the other, “maybe, let’s just go slow the first time, and then after that I can do all the filthy things to you that I’ve been dreaming about over the last year...” you gently lick then bite his earlobe. But Mando isn’t distracted so easily.

“You mean the first time... for us, or first time in a while, right? Not the first time... ever...?”

When you don’t say anything he jerks away from you as if burned.

“Is this a problem...?” You ask. He’s quiet for a moment.

“ _Cyar'ika_...” he sighs and reaches for your face again, cupping your cheeks, kissing your eyes, “it’s not a _problem_ no... definitely not for me... but it’s probably not a good idea...”

“Why?”

“Because you need to be with someone who can offer you a future...”

“Oh? So you’re basically saying that if I sleep with you I _must_ stay with you for ever? That women can only have one sexual partner ever?”

“Wait, no, that’s not what I’m saying at all-“

“Then why are you making such a big deal out of it? I want you Mando. Don’t overthink it.” Again he’s silent.

Then he kisses you deeply. You touch every bit of him you can get your hands on as he moves between your legs again. This time he doesn’t contort you, your legs are open and relaxed, his body hovering just above yours, just close enough for your breasts to press against his chest as he holds his weight on his forearms, his hands still cupping your face.

One hand disappears from your face to do some adjusting and you feel the head of his cock again. He slides in slowly now. There’s a bit of a brief burn but your body takes him this time without too much resistance. You stretch and stretch around him and the fullness in your both your heart and cunt is so overwhelming that a few tears escape from your eyes once again.

When he’s impossibly deep, but possibly all the way in, he presses his forehead to yours and asks “you okay?”

You nod and cant your hips, the mild pain completely replaced by a raging need for _MORE_. He starts to move and it’s _everything_.

His pace is slow, dragging against your walls as he pulls out, stretching you open every time he pushes in. You’re making those damn sounds again but you feel him smiling against your lips, himself gasping with every movement. You find a hip motion that compliments his, and set a faster pace, chasing the fire that threatens to consume you.

Mando pushes up on his left arm and is now putting his full weight into the thrusts, the delicious wet slapping sounds your bodies makes drives you to bite his wrist and you hear him huff a laugh. His right hand is still cupping your cheek and he slips a thumb into your mouth, giving you something to bite on, to suck, to scream around.

You feel the inevitable avalanche of another orgasm begin, and wrap your legs around his waist. This position drives him deeper, and you closer to the edge. He must sense it because he moves his hand from your face to your clit and presses as he lowers his body down so that his face is next to yours again. He’s hammering hard into you now and whispers: “Come for me, _Cyar'ika_ ”, and you fall apart.

* * *

You dosed off soon after. When you wake up the storm is starting to subside but it's still dark out. Instinctively you fret about the Kid, as you do every time you wake up. The only thing you want more than another round of Mando’s body is to get to your beloved green little booger as soon as possible. You’re on your side, with Mando curled tightly around you, his heavy, muscular arm holding you flush against him. Your core aches and is hopelessly sticky, and the thought of Mando's semen running down your thigh is enough to ignite that need in you again. The helpless craving for this man you absolutely adore.

You know it won’t last for ever. You might die defending the child. But more likely — you’ll find the Kid’s people, and when there’s no more use for you as surrogate mother Mando will discard you again. You’ll live out your life — probably settling for someone like Riaan — but a part of you will always belong to the days of the Kid, Mando, the Ray, and all your adventures...

Mando stirs, and you feel light kisses on your neck.

“ _Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum_ ” he whispers.

“That's beautiful... What does it mean?” You ask softly. He’s quiet for a moment.

“It means you snore in your sleep” he says.

You snort and roll your eyes, giving him a playful slap before rolling him over and straddling him, determined to get as much out of your limited time as possible.

Yup. You’re going to have a hard time getting over this man.

**Author's Note:**

> In the next chapter you start suspecting that the crush may be reciprocated (dramatic music!!). But you are both TERRIBLE at communication and maybe better at just doing the nasty. Sorry I still haven't figured out how to indicate that there are two more chapters.


End file.
